


The Perils Of Going To The Dentist

by serendipityinwords



Category: The 100
Genre: Best friend's brother, F/M, Fluff, high!clarke, under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:24:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5433014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityinwords/pseuds/serendipityinwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke hates the dentist. But when Clarke, hopped up on laughing gas, starts talking about her fantasies, Bellamy Blake really, really loves the dentist. </p><p>Or</p><p>Bellamy is going to hell. Apparently, so is Clarke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils Of Going To The Dentist

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write high! Clarke because that's, apparently, my thing.

Clarke couldn’t  _believe_ Octavia bailed on her. She knew, she goddamn  _knew,_ how terrified Clarke was of the dentist. And yet, she bailed. Who can you trust anymore? 

Clarke was 25 years old. And yes, being afraid of the dentist is stupid and irrational and she knew that she had no reason to fear them.  Yeah, they asked her extremely inappropriate questions whilst stuffing their equipment into her mouth, messily. But so did Finn. (Thank God, that was over). And fine, their tendency to blame all gum-related problems to lack of flossing was annoying, to say the least. But there was also just  _something_ about them. She didn’t know what, but she tended to trust her gut instincts. 

So, she avoided the dentist like the plague. She flossed between meals, brushed her teeth twice, sometimes thrice a day. And for fuck’s sake, she even did the stupid back and forth swipe thing with her toothbrush (everyone else just brushed without direction, like animals). For years, she’d been blessed with immaculate teeth and no trips to the hell-hole that is the dentist’s office but alas, the golden period was over. Clarke noticed a nagging pain at her bottom right-most tooth a few days before and then proceeded to fight down the welling panic and did the most logical thing. She ignored it. Not the most brilliant thing she’d ever done, but she was a pretty bad adult, so it wasn't the absolute worst either. Anyway, Octavia found her lying on the cold kitchen floor, blood dripping from her half-closed mouth, tears of sheer irritation streaming from her face, the day before and practically shoved her into the dentist’s office. Except she didn't show.

Apparently, Octavia had an “uncancellable date with Lincoln” that “marked the two-year anniversary of the first time they made sweet love under the blanket of the starry night sky”.  Clarke really didn’t need to know that last part and really, neither did Bellamy when Octavia begged him to take Clarke to the dentist instead. Bellamy later agreed because he couldn’t say no to Octavia and Clarke agreed because she had no other choice. Although, she really wished she hadn’t when Bellamy welcomed her into his car with that stupid, too-attractive-for-his-own-good-smirk of his. He was practically rearing and ready to tease her about her astute dental habits and where it’d gotten her.

Once she was comfortably seated, though, it never came. He actually looked concerned, despite his earlier nonchalance. His eyebrows were drawn in, as if surveying the damage already done. Like he could help her somehow from the front seat of his stupid Kia. She wanted to be touched but all she felt was irrationally self- conscious. And logically, she knew that she was under no obligation to look good. She was in need of immediate dentist-related medical attention, for God’s sake. So what if she looked like a swollen avocado? But still, she wanted to look good. For him? To impress him? She really wanted to ignore the muddled feelings she was developing for Bellamy Blake, because that's just the kind of adult she was. But, he was right there and stupid attractive. She had to face him. So, she turned to meet his stare and was relieved when his grin had returned. Finally, some semblance of normal. As if he'd read her mind. _Nope, she was not going down that rabbit hole._

“You doing okay, Princess?” He asked, in his I'm-a-lovable-asshole voice. (Which she did not find endearing) She stared resolutely ahead, fighting the flush spreading across her chest, pretending not to catch the hint of concern in his voice. 

“Peachy,” She replied, though she knew it came out more like ‘pheezy’. Because she was in a considerable amount of pain. He seemed to understand though, because he chuckled once, low and surprised. She tried to stop the smile spreading across her face because it was just getting ridiculous.

No big surprise. It didn’t work and smiling hurt. 

* * *

 

Bellamy had every intention of teasing Clarke about her astute dental habits and where it had gotten her, but. She looked like  _shit_. Don’t get him wrong, she was still beautiful. But the swelling of her jaw and the murder in her eyes really didn’t scream 'I'm fine". He got it. She was having a rough day. He was aware of her irrational and adorable fear of the dentist and their sterilized tools, or whatever. He got it. So, instead of making fun of her, Bellamy asked if she was okay. Even he knew it was uncharacteristic of him. To care. He mentally chided himself for letting it get to that point. He cared for her. Of course, he cared for her. He a little more than cared for her. And that was the whole problem. It was that old classic I-like-you-so-I'm-going-to-tug-at-your-pigtails thing. He was to far into the charade to stop. Which- Fine, it didn't make sense in theory, but in practice... Bellamy was a child. That much was confirmed. 

So, the ride was silent. He wasn’t used to not engaging in some sort of word-war with her. They were always butting heads and he loved it. But if Clarke’s wince at speaking one word before was any indication, she wasn’t going to talk for a while. It was fine. He liked the silence too. Bellamy kept stealing glances at her when she wasn’t looking. She looked tired and sick and ready to kill a man and he was aware that she can’t look like a Goddess  _every_  day. Yet, Bellamy was still wildly attracted to her. It wasn’t just her face, it was her. Even when she looked like death, she would have forgotten her pain in an instant, if it meant helping someone else. She was stubborn and kind and smart and angelic and he was fucked. 

* * *

The waiting room was depressing with its paint peeling of the walls and its surly receptionist and the fear pooling at her gut. She worried her lip, glancing over at Bellamy. He looked rather unconcerned about it all and she couldn't find it in her to resent him for it. He didn't have to follow her in. She was just planning on texting him when she was done, but he got out of the car without a word and she was too proud to gape. (And too happy to refuse).

She felt his presence like a wall holding her up. They weren't physically touching but she was leaning against him, all the same. 

Clarke hadn't realized that she was shaking her legs until Bellamy placed his hand over her knee, stopping her. She froze, staring at the place where their skin met. She felt the heat of his palm and the steady thrum of his heart and it was like the whole room quietened down for it. She looked up at him, slowly. He was staring at his hand like he couldn't recognize it. She knew she wasn't imagining this. The sweat that had begun to form at his temple and the curve of his throat when he swallowed. She knew she was staring a little too intently. Even, hopefully. But she couldn't help it. Something was happening. 

"Clarke Griffin," The receptionist called. Both their heads snapped towards her, and she looked back, bored. He jerks his hand away and looked away, determinedly. She would deal with it later. Now felt like too much.

 _On the bright side_ , she thought as she walked away, willing her pulse to return to normal. _She wasn't so afraid of the dentist anymore._

No, she found something much scarier.

* * *

 

Bellamy was starting to get worried. It had been a while since Clarke went in. _And since he changed everything._ But no, he wasn't thinking about that. He'd figure that out later. _Should he ask someone?_ He momentarily made eye contact with the, stick-thin lady in horn-rimmed glasses, sitting behind the receptionist’s desk. She gave him a look as if to say that he should refrain from asking any questions, if he wished for the rest of his stay in the waiting room to be pleasant. Which was weird, considering her profession. But wisely, he kept quiet and waited. He didn't particularly want to beat himself up over what he did, but he did beat himself up over what he did. What did he even do? Lots of friends touch their friends. It wasn't sexual. But it felt like something. She felt it too. He could still picture the place on her knee where he touched her. The pale show of skin where her dress had ridden up. He wanted to be reassuring but whatever he did, reassuring wasn't the word he's use to describe it. _Fuck_.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally came out and all at once, his thoughts were directed at her. 

But there was something different her. He guessed that it was in the way she swung on her heels and the way she smiled lazily despite the white bandage wrapped around her face, obstructing most of it. She was also winking at him but both her eyelids would flutter shut at each attempt. Bellamy wanted to laugh very badly but he bit down on his lips, because he was a good person. She was as high as balls.

It's not like he hadn't considered it. It was the dentist and she hadn't been to the dentist in years. Her gums were probably disgusting. (Which, shamefully, did not make him want to kiss her any less.) Anyway, he'd dealt with drunk Clarke. How different could high Clarke be? 

(Answer: Very.)

“Hey, Blake!” She cried. Her speech was slurred and louder than she was probably hoping for. She ran toward him and any other time he would have been delighted. Except this time, she didn’t run as much as she made exaggerated, painstakingly slow strides toward him, whilst humming the Star Wars theme.  _High as balls_. It took her a full minute to cross the ten meters that lay between them, but he didn’t complain, especially when she fell into his arms and then rose on her tiptoes to place a sloppy kiss on his cheek. And even though there was bloody saliva on it, he still wasn’t complaining. _Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

She proceeded to stride slowly, unfazed by one frozen Bellamy Blake, towards the car. This time, humming the Harry Potter theme. Well, at least the ride home wouldn’t be boring.

While Bellamy settled all her medication with the surly receptionist who had only one mood, she had finally made it to the car and was staring at the singular tree outside. He fought a laugh as he watched her head roll back and forth, a small smile still plastered on her face. Despite the undeniable hilarity of the situation, he was aware that she was in a lot of pain. She just couldn’t feel it yet. It’d hurt like a bitch the next day. So, he sat down next to her and buckled her in, ignoring her pleas to be ‘free like their great nation”, and drove off.

“Wouldn’t it be fucked up if the entire earth was destroyed in a nuclear war and we had to go live in space?” Bellamy fought the urge to roll his eyes. “That would be super fucked up," she repeats

“You should stop talking. You’ll make the pain worse.” _Jesus, it was like a fucking Youtube video in there._

“You’re no fun in real life,” She said, crossing her arms across her chest, pouting. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He liked this Clarke. He liked every Clarke but this Clarke was unguarded--

 _\-- Wait_. “In real life?” He echoed. He knew he shouldn’t. She had no filter right now and he had the distinct feeling that she was about to say something that really required a filter.

But he was only human.

“Yeah, not like in my fantasies.” She proceeded to hum a tune, butchered beyond recognition. He cleared his throat once. _He should stop_ , he thought. But he was a weak, weak man.

“You mean the one where you kick me in the balls?” He tried, letting out a bark of nervous laughter. ”Yeah, you’ve mentioned it before.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head.

“No. I mean the  _smexy_  ones.” Bellamy lost control of the steering and regained it after swerving to the right. Signalling apologies to the drivers honking at him from behind him, he gripped the wheel hard and stared at the road ahead. He felt heat rise to his cheeks and his heart was not cooperating. He really shouldn’t.

“Smexy?” He swallowed hard once. Twice. Thrice. 

She hums, agreeing. “There’s the one where you kiss me in the rain and then rip my clothes off."  A dramatic pause. “And then we do the smexy. ” Another dramatic pause. “In  _public,_ ” she stage-whispered. _Nope_.

Bellamy wanted to laugh at the repeated used of the word ‘smexy’ but he also wanted to die at the way the picture had immediately formed in his head. It's not unfamiliar. He had fantasized about fucking Clarke, a lot. But he had never once imagined that she had too. 

He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but look straight ahead. He couldn't afford to look at her, lest he lost control of the car again and they both die without him learning about her other fantasies regarding him. He really,  _really_ shouldn’t.

He was going to hell. But apparently she was joining him there.

“Fantasies? Plural?” He probed.  She nodded but kept silent. Bellamy decided that, despite his overwhelming curiosity, he would not question her any further. He was pretty sure he was committing some kind of cardinal sin or breaking some law against feminism, or something. So, even though it tore him apart atom by atom, he kept silent. She deserved that. Besides, now he knew that he a real shot with her. And it was more than he'd ever expected. 

“The other fantasy,” she exclaimed in a much louder voice, at least ten minutes later. Bellamy nearly sagged in relief. He never claimed to be a saint. “Is that we are doing really smexy things and then, you speak in Tagalog,” Clarke said, almost absent-minded. 

Bellamy can’t help but feel a little touched that she would appreciate that aspect of him. He felt touched among  _other_ things. “It’s really hot, trust me," she adds, in a much quieter voice. Bellamy nodded at her, very delighted, as she struggled to stay awake.

“Maybe you should go to sleep,” Clarke makes a disgruntled noise. “Besides, if you keep talking you’ll say something you  _really_ regret.”

“I have tons more to say.” 

“And I have other ways to get them out of you," he responded, voice low. If she were a little more sober, she would have recognized the innuendo. He was glad she wasn't. He wouldn't have had the guts to make it, if she was. He looked at her for a split-second, awash in sunlight streaming from the window, face still pink, wrapped up in bloody bandages. _Beautiful_. Yes, there were many ways to get it out of her. “When you’re in your senses, I’ll really make you lose them again.” He managed to growl a little despite his urge to chuckle and despite the drugs in her system and the fact that she had no grasp of anything, she still managed to blush.

“YOLO!” She cried before drifting off into sleep.

 

"That's just embarrassing," he murmured to himself. 

But he was grinning so hard, his face hurt. He looked over at her, again. She was drooling and her eyeliner was smudged. She was worth it.

Once she was asleep, they reached her apartment fairly soon. He called Octavia to help him lug her body back to her bed and to his, both, horror and joy, Clarke moaned his name once in her sleep, while they were tucking her in. It was suggestive enough to send him sputtering. And by the way Octavia smirked, it was clear that she knew too much for her own good. Knowing Octavia, she'd probably orchestrated the whole thing. And while he was greatly disturbed, he was also grateful.

Later, when he was alone in his car, he found himself smiling to himself. All the way home. Not taking a single break. But it wasn't until he finally got home and the events of the day had truly, fully hit him, that he had started to laugh. 

* * *

 

Clarke doesn’t have the slightest inkling as to why Bellamy smirked so much at her, when he'd visited the next day. Even more than usual. She couldn’t remember anything from the day before. Frankly, right then, with her entire face hurting like someone had hit her with a jackhammer, she couldn’t care less.

She did care though, when he leaned in towards her, so close that their noses were touching, and whispered beautiful, melodious words in a language she recognized to be Tagalog. Her face warmed considerably and she begged her heart to keep calm because it was erratic in her chest. 

“What does that mean?” She asked, still in awe of the way those words triggered all the butterflies in her stomach at the same time. He still hadn’t moved an inch. She could have counted all his freckles if she wanted to. She did. So badly.

“It means that I’ll see you soon.” She felt a pinch of disappointment when he got up to leave. It was nice of him to visit anyway. She didn’t think he cared to visit her in the first place. At least, without some form of involvement from Octavia. This time, however, she knew he came over without anyone's prompting, and the thought soothed her over.

“Why the sudden Tagalog?” she asked, all but casual. She was grinning slightly over at him. At his brown eyes and intolerable smirk. The one she found a little more than tolerable. At him. She winced. It hurt to smile but she couldn’t help it.

“Because I can’t make it rain indoors.” 

Her grin faded almost immediately.  _He can’t be. But how? It’s not possible._ Then something clicked. She didn't want it to, but. Nitrous Oxide. She knew there had to be a reason she hated the dentist. _Fuck._  Clarke wanted to die. She wanted to crawl into a hole and  _then_ die. Her cheeks became impossibly red as she tried to say something. She wanted to say something smart or flirty or casual. Anything. But her mouth just opened and shut uselessly until she gave up altogether.

But before she could curl into a fetal position, like she really, really wanted to, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and smiled at her. Not a smirk. A genuine smile. The kind that warmed her from head to toe and made her chest too small for her heart. It was so much worse.

“Looking forward to listening to the rest of the fantasies. Call me when you can actually speak, okay?” He doesn’t wait for a confirmation before he leaves Clarke behind, stunned beyond comprehension. Her body was a mess of emotions and her face, warm and red and aching. She was nerves and spark wires and an explosion waiting to happen. But even the ache in her face can’t stop the smile from forming. All feral and just too much. _Even after he was gone?_ This was just ridiculous.

Goddamn it, she hated the dentist.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm idontgiveaneffie on tumblr. Come cry with me about fictional characters.


End file.
